


Come Away With Me

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Innuendo, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22320544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: The fact that you’re overworked is obvious. Tom takes matters into his own hands and whisks you away on a private holiday. Will your mutual pining finally make itself known in the secluded setting?
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 105





	Come Away With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabine_leo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabine_leo/gifts).



“Are you at home?”

A groan erupted from somewhere deep inside you, unbidden and unstoppable, in response to the heavenly ache of your feet flexing after slipping out of your shoes after a long day at work. You reached underneath your shirt and unhooked your bra, pulling it through the sleeve of your top to drop it onto the bed beside you. _Bliss._

“Just got here.”

“You are working yourself to death. You should’ve been home hours ago. Have you eaten?” Tom’s exasperation bled through the tinny speaker on your phone, laced with concern that spread a comforting warmth inside your chest.

Your free hand snagged your comfiest lounge clothes from their rightful place in a pile on your dresser. Food hadn’t even been a concern with the stress that overrode your thoughts, consuming you and eating away at your sanity piece by piece. “Nope. I think there’s a granola bar in the pantry. Not that hungry.”

The faint but distinct sound of a car door slamming made it through the phone. “I’ll be over in thirty with the usual. No friend of mine will take such poor care of herself on my watch.”

There was no arguing with the stubborn man; a grateful smile tugged on your lips. “Thanks, Tom.”

“Love you.”

Tossing the phone onto your bed, you shoved the mismatched pajama pants and ratty t-shirt into a dresser drawer. Perhaps something a bit more put together and flattering if Tom was going to pop over…

~

“We’re going on holiday. Next week, Friday, as soon as you’re free from work.”

You almost choked on the beer you’d tilted to your lips. Coughing against the burning liquid searing your lungs, you set it down, staring at Tom with wide eyes as he rubbed your back in soothing circles that sizzled across your skin. When you could gasp a breath, you managed to blurt out, “Delusional-celebrity-best-friend-with-all-the-money-in-the-world says what?”

He chuckled, a light, breathy sound that you couldn’t help but answer with your own quiet laugh. “You are working yourself to the bone. Ah ah,” he picked his hand up off of your back and pointed a stern finger in your direction when you opened your mouth to deny it. “From one chronically, albeit self-imposed, overworked soul to another, there is no use pretending that you aren’t exhausted and in need of a break. Do whatever you must do to get your affairs in order, but you’re mine for three days.”

Damn if the demanding timbre of his voice didn’t send chills down your spine. You hid it by shifting on the couch beside him, dropping your eyes to the takeout carton in front of you. “You know I can’t aff-”

His hand settled on your knee, large and warm while his thumb brushed the outside of your leg. “Don’t force me to go on a weekend getaway all alone.”

There wasn’t any use attempting to fight the hopeful expression lifting his eyebrows and crinkling around his eyes.

~

_Keys. Underwear. Swimsuit. Presentable pajamas. Enough outfits to last the trip. Charger._

The doorbell rang, pulling you out of your mental checklist as you stared critically at the open luggage sitting by the door. “It’s open!”

Tom strolled into the room, letting the cold in with him, greeting you with a warm hug and a kiss to your temple before joining you in looking at your suitcase with his arm draped over your shoulders. “Are we waiting for it to put itself in the car, or…?”

You slapped his chest lightly, the soft knit of his crimson sweater taking most of the force, before kneeling down to gather your things. “Just making sure I have everything. My brain is still a bit fuzzy after work today.”

He swept your belongings from your grasp with a wink and a smile that sent your heart skittering in your chest for his earnest beauty. This time alone was going to be the death of you. “I’ll pop this into the boot while you grab your coat and lock up.”

Your entire body gave into the exhaustion that had tugged on you relentlessly for what seemed like ages as soon as you sank into the heated interior of his car, surrounded by the gentle masculine scent of his cologne and oiled leather seats. Tom’s face was only partially lit by the occasional streetlamp or the glow of the dashboard as he guided his sleek car out of the city proper and into the countryside.

You’d wanted to stay awake, to watch the glow of small towns passing by, count the stars uninhibited by light pollution, even just pester him about where you were going, but it was all too easy to fall asleep rocked by the gentle turns of the car and lulled by Tom’s rich voice humming along quietly to the radio.

~

The typical sounds of busy city streets were absent when you woke. You frowned, blinking against the gray light streaming in through the windows as you sat up in a bed that was decidedly _not_ your own. The previous night came back to you in groggy snapshots as you rubbed at the sleep in your eyes.

_Tom gently shaking you awake. Guiding you to bed with his arm around your waist. Helping you out of your shoes and socks before picking out some nightclothes for you. Tucking you in and pressing a kiss to your cheek before telling you that he loved you. The brush of his hand across your forehead._

You didn’t even know where you were; you’d been too tired to ask the previous night. Running a hand through your mussed hair, you stumbled out of bed, staring out the window to see nothing but dense fog covering gently rolling hills. Not the most helpful scene for determining your location, but the peace of it all allowed you to take a deep breath that rolled through your body to settle deep in your soul.

The steaming hot shower loosened the muscles in your shoulders. The soft clothes that you slipped into erased the lines in between your brows. A pot of coffee waited in the quaint, but well-stocked, kitchen next to a note covered in chicken scratch meant to be words, maybe. Some squinting allowed you to pick out: 

_”Off on a run. Enjoy the coffee and relax. Be back soon. - Love”_

With a mug warming your hands and a throw from the gray cloth couch in the living room tossed around your shoulders, you padded out in your socked feet onto the weathered deck that wrapped around the exterior of the cozy cabin Tom had rented. A chilling breeze rustling through barren trees was the only sound that reached your ears besides the soft blow of your breath to cool down your coffee. It was absolutely still, gifting you with a peace that only air perfumed with moist earth, crisp frost, and fresh evergreen could afford.

The cold was just about unbearable, fighting against your thin socks to sap the feeling from your toes, when a figure jogged down a gravel road to your left. It was easy to recognize the graceful silhouette of the man who’d whisked you away on this vacation, the lean lines of his body hard to mistake for anyone else even shrouded in mist and fog not yet burned by the rising sun. He loped up next to you, his chest heaving beneath his black t-shirt that was absolutely stuck to his skin with the sweat he’d worked up from his vigorous exercise.

Cheeks flushed. Eyes bright and focused as he smiled down at you. Hands carding through his hair - a dull copper in the light of the gray day. He was a vision. It was like your heart forgot how to beat. The intense desire to hear that ragged breathing in a different, more intimate setting, welled up within you so powerfully that you were thankful for the excuse of another sip of coffee to draw your eyes downward.

“Good morning, darling.” He leaned against the wooden railing behind you, squeezing your upper arm in greeting along the way. “Did you sleep well?”

You placed your finished mug down beside him, wrapping yourself tighter in your makeshift cape as you studied the fine figure of the man before you with a grin. “I did. Best sleep I’ve had in a long time, thanks to a certain someone carting me off to the middle of nowhere and then helping me into bed.”

His face fell with a sudden vulnerability that nearly split your heart in two it was so complete. “With how little time we both had available, somewhere close was the best option. And with the propensity for paparazzi to find me, I wanted both of us to relax without worry of intrusion. I apologize if it isn’t to your liking…”

You reached out and grabbed his hand without thinking. A shiver coursed through your body at the chill the opening in your blanket let in against your practically useless pajamas, but you’d do anything, risk any discomfort, to ease any tension in that man’s life. “No, no! It’s perfect. How about you go take a shower and I’ll whip us up some breakfast?”

He pressed a quick kiss to your head. Your lovesick heart convinced you that his lips, wonderfully soft and warm, lingered a second longer than appropriate between friends, that he inhaled the scent of your still-damp hair, but that was a fool’s wish driven by unrequited pining. “You spoil me.”

You pushed at his chest and crinkled your nose with a laugh. “Says the man who bankrolled this whole thing. Go. Shower!”

A mischievous twinkle lit up his eyes before he pulled you into a tight hug, swaying you back and forth as he forced your face into his damp chest with loud laughter that shook you both. You expected to be repulsed, but the clean scent of his sweat was so masculine and heady that you had to work hard to force your hands to push away at his sides instead of tugging him closer. The urge to tear off his shirt and watch the muscles flexing beneath your fingertips clenched deep in your belly. “Now you need a shower, too!”

“Get off me, you brat!” You wriggled out from his hold, blanket falling to your feet, mouth pulled back into an easy grin. The weight that had lingered on your chest for weeks lifted fully from his antics, and you knew he saw the tension disappear from the warmth that suffused his thoughtful gaze.

He swaggered towards you, a cowboy from westerns long ago in holey athletic wear and a finely accented voice that made your knees weaken, dropping his chin to rest his forehead against yours. “We could save water and shower together.”

Did he know the effect he had on you? Swallowing against the sudden moisture in your throat, you shoved him in the direction of the door, shaking your head. “Go!”

The frigid air biting at your flushed cheeks was very much welcomed after he disappeared. You sank back against the wooden planks of the house. With a drop of your head against the siding, you groaned, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers that you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself alone with Tom. If he continued on the path he was on, you weren’t certain of that success.

~

After a dinner of his world famous bolognese with pasta and garlic bread, you sat on the couch next to one another, him picking idly at his guitar and humming little tunes as you watched him and sipped at your beer.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” You softened the words with a broad smile, shifting so that you faced him with your legs tucked underneath you.

His brows quirked upwards as he looked up at you from his deft fingers plucking at the strings. The idle melody never ceased as he replied, “Am I, now?”

The drinks, the delicious food, the comfort that you felt in his presence all worked together to loosen your lips in a daring way you’d never risk otherwise. “For sure. You’re an amazing actor, you can cook, you dance, you’re so bloody handsome that it hurts to look at you sometimes, you saw that I needed a break and demanded that I come with you on this adventure, and if I recall correctly, you _did_ have a movie that revolved a great deal of singing.”

A bashful flush spread across his cheeks, and his eyes dropped to his fingers which had slowly stilled during your tipsy admission. When he looked back up to you, heat darkened his gaze, and your blood pounded in your ears at the promises you read within. “Is that a challenge?”

“Is what a challenge?”

He rose from the couch and turned to face you fully. With a calming breath, he launched into _Hey Good Lookin’_. But unlike the movie version that you had watched religiously because of the haunting beauty of his character, this was slower, quieter, more intimate. Your fingers dug into the cushions beneath you as he held you captive beneath his powerful stare, all intoxication having melted away from him to deliver the song straight to the heart beating an impossibly fast drum against your ribcage. 

You didn’t know how to proceed. Your body screamed at you to stand up, step into his embrace after taking the guitar from his hands, and give him what he’d asked for in roughly delivered song. But your mind cautioned you. It knew better. Knew that any flirting from him was most likely hope on your part. He was friendly, kind, affectionate in his trust. That was all.

So he moved for you, carefully placing the guitar on the couch before holding out his hand to you palm up in an invitation you would never turn down. “Did you bring your swimsuit like I instructed you to?”

~

“You’re absolutely mad!” Even just standing in the living room, staring out the glass doors at the hot tub that you honestly hadn’t even noticed throughout the day, you were shivering from the cold that seeped through the cracks to raise goosebumps on your exposed skin.

Tom stepped out of his bedroom, drawing your gaze with a dark chuckle that did terrible and wonderful things to your tummy. Especially in addition to the sight of him in just his swim shorts, the smattering of light chest hair drawing your attention down the middle of his lightly muscled chest to his abdomen before disappearing beneath thin black fabric. _Very_ thin black fabric. You swallowed against the desire that had you imagining what you’d find if you followed that trail.

“You’ll be fine once you’re in the water!” he reassured you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you outside. He released you to quickly hop into the bubbling water with a gasp and then a rumbled moan that was made of such sin you forgot how to breathe. The sight of the dimples at the base of his spine made your fingers ache to trace the contours of his body until you had the feel of him memorized. Steam billowed from the water in white clouds lit from underneath the bubbles sounding so loudly in the quiet of the night. You swore you saw Tom’s eyes dart to your chest where the unforgiving temperature made itself known through the thin fabric of your suit. “The longer you resist the colder you’ll get!”

Steeling both your electrified nerves and your raging hormones, you slid into the water beside him, sounding your own moan at the heat that slowly penetrated the layer of cold that surrounded you like a second skin. Your bare shoulders and neck still felt the brunt of the winter air, though, and you drifted closer to Tom. “I can’t dunk my whole body in here, Hiddleston. What’s your solution to _that_?”

With a questioning look over your flustered face, the draw of his eyes from yours to your lips and back again, he lifted his arm from between you to pull your weightless body in the water until you sat sideways in his lap. His arm curled around your shoulders so his thumb could tease your collarbone, ridding you of any rational thought as you tried to grasp the new turn of events.

Tom had always been affectionate, freely doling out hugs, kisses on your temple, and even words of praise when the opportunity presented itself. But _this_? The curl of his breath against your neck and the rasp of his thumb over the hollow of your throat, it felt like something _more_. A continuation of the unsaid words littered between you on the couch earlier.

“Is this alright?” he whispered, barely audible over the bubbling tub, but you felt the words just as you heard them, traveling through your side pressed into the planes of his chest to wrap around your heart.

If only he knew how very much it wasn’t alright. How the press of his thighs into yours and the feeling of his heart racing against your arm was sending so many mixed signals that your brain threatened to short-circuit and spill smoke from your ears. Hesitantly, you twisted your torso just enough to hook your arm around his neck, scratching idly at his scalp. It was far more comfortable for you, but judging by the sharp intake of his breath, perhaps it wasn’t for him.

“Yes. Is this alright?”

He dropped his forehead to rest on your bare shoulder and tightened his grip on you ever so slightly. But you’d notice any minute twitch of his body with how attuned you were to the wonderful man holding you close. “Perfect.”

Despite the anxious energy bordering on heartbreak simmering beneath your skin wherever you melted into him, you had to agree. What more had you wanted out of life than to sit in a hot tub in Tom’s tender embrace, staring at the stars and just breathing each other in?

~

“You continue spoiling me like this and you’ll have to move in with me whenever we get back,” you teased, hugging him from behind, your face finding a home in the dip of his spine between his shoulder blades, your hands smoothing over the flat of his abdomen.

“I think that if we ever moved in together, _you_ would come stay at mine,” he chuckled, dropping the spatula currently tending to the eggs for a proper fry-up to close a hand over yours. His fingertips danced over your knuckles. “You needed a bit of pampering, and I am fully up to the task. Breakfast is about finished, if you could get a few plates?”

When you turned back to him after grabbing two plates big enough to handle the absolutely massive amount of food he’d prepared, Tom was right in front of you, the food left unattended on the stove. Indecision warred in his eyes, and his hands fidgeted with the edges of the apron he’d thrown on over his t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms.

The sudden shift in his mood was so immediate that you immediately put the plates down on the counter. “You okay?”

A shaky breath. The rub of his hands over his clean-shaven jaw. His lips pressed together and he settled his hands on his hips, dropping his chin to look up at you through golden lashes that caught the light trickling in through the small kitchen window. “I love you.”

Those three words, uttered with such a hesitant, low voice and a somber expression, kickstarted your heart into overdrive. You adjusted your robe around your shoulders. It was a strain to act as if you didn’t simultaneously fall to pieces and soar to the heavens each time he said it, especially so early in the morning and without caffeine. But you managed, plastering on a weary, if a bit confused, grin. “I love you, too.”

A tentative step forward so that you were only a breath away from each other. His hands sought the curve of your waist, skimming over them in a touch so gentle and yet loaded with tension that you thought you’d explode. The various shades of blue, green, and gray that made up his eyes were visible just before his eyelashes feel to caress the tops of his chiseled cheekbones, giving you just a moment to realize what was happening before he touched his lips to yours.

 _Oh._ You couldn’t have stopped your hands from skimming up his torso to cup his shoulders for anything. He pulled away for just a second, unsure by the trembling of his fingers against your sides, panting out puffs of air against your tingling lips.

“I _love_ you,” he repeated, a hoarse whisper caressing your skin. Worry creased in between his brows and the flutter of his jaw.

You silenced his doubts. Your body found a home flush against his, pliant curves to firm planes, holding onto him as if letting him go would wake you from the lusciousness of the dream. Molten heat scented with coffee and sugar spilled out from the hunger of your kiss. You delighted in the taste of his plush lips. The lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips before he sucked and nibbled on your bottom lip was almost your undoing, and you were grateful for his neverending strength holding you securely in the band of his arms.

An acrid odor that singed your nostrils broke through your feverish haze to mix unpleasantly with the aftershave that tickled at your nose along his cheek. Both of you sprang apart from the other, turning to see the eggs burning.

“Fuck!” he shouted, ripping the pan from the stove to throw it into the sink. He fanned away the smoke toward the window with flailing hands, but it wasn’t open, and the frantic sight of him after such an intense moment burst the bubble between you. You doubled over for a second, giggling at the ridiculousness of it all.

When you had managed to calm down after opening a few windows, you sank back against the counter, putting on the best pout you could muster despite the happiness singing inside of you. “But I _love_ eggs.”

He quickly trapped you in his arms, spinning you around and peppering kisses up the column of your throat in a way that had you dizzy and breathless. He nipped at your earlobe and growled, “I’ll give you something else to love, darling.”


End file.
